The lady walked to the door of the bedroom. She paused at the threshold. She turned her head slightly, only enough to give Cixi the side of her face.

Cixi stood alone in the centre of the bedroom in her sleeping vest and a pair of soft cotton shorts she did not remember putting on, with the morning sun warming the back of her neck and her belly still not where it had been when she had gone to sleep, and looked at the closed bedroom door for a long, suspended second before she remembered to breathe.

She breathed.

"What," she said softly to no one in the room, "the hell."

She decided to finish her morning routines even though she feared that the woman might tell everyone in the Palace about her fake pregnancy.

Once she reached her room, Olga closed the door of her own suite behind her.

Lorian was sitting on the edge of the bed in his nightclothes.

She stopped in the middle of the sitting room. She had not expected to see him. She had been counting, on the way back from Cassian’s suite, on the small mercy of an empty room and a clean change of clothes before the morning required her to look her husband in the face.

The morning had not granted her any mercy.

Lorian raised his head. His hair was disturbed. His eyes were tired. "Were you the whole night?"

"I went for a walk." She relied coldly.

"In a nightgown."

"Yes, in a nightgown."

He looked at her for a moment. But didn’t press further. "We need to talk."

"No, I need to get ready. I have plans." Olga replied as she walked to the washroom.

"What plans?"

Why would I need to inform you when you are capable of acting without my knowledge?

She closed the bathroom door behind her.

She washed her face. She combed her hair into a low knot. She drew a pale grey dress from the rack, plain at the neckline, fitted at the waist, the kind of dress a woman of her station wore when she had decided to look invisible at a fashionable hour. She slid into it. She found a pair of low pearl earrings she had not worn in eight years. She put them on.

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled, thinking of spending time with Cixi. She left the room without speaking to her husband.

*

When Olga pushed open the door to Cassian’s suite, Cixi was already waiting in the living room. She sat on the edge of the couch, having dressed quickly in a soft cream dress, her fake belly again quite visible.

Breakfast had arrived not long before. A long silver tray sat on the low table, laid out with coffee, juice, two covered plates, a small basket of warm bread, and a single white rose in a slender crystal vase. Neither of the domes had been lifted, and the coffee remained untouched.

Cixi looked up and forced a polite, professional smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Romanovs. I wasn’t able to greet you earlier."

"Good morning, Cixi."

Cixi stayed seated, not reaching out her hand, nor inviting Olga to sit. Olga noted each omission and tucked it away in her mind. She took a seat in the chair across from Cixi and poured two cups of coffee.

"How are you feeling, Cixi?" she asked.

"It’s—" Cixi’s hand instinctively moved to her temple, where her fingertips found a small dark bruise above her hairline. She hesitated for a moment. "It’s fine. Thank you for asking."

"Do you remember what happened yesterday?" Olga asked, watching Cixi closely.

"Are you referring to the dining room?" Cixi replied.

"No, on the terrace."

Cixi’s gaze sharpened slightly. So it wasn’t just a dream? She had indeed been on the terrace. She hadn’t died. Did this woman witness her fall and then get back up? Cleared her throat, she said, "What about it?"

"I came in last night to check on you after what happened in the dining room, to see how you were doing. Then I heard your scream. When I looked down from the terrace, you were already unconscious and being held by someone...."

"Someone caught me?" Cixi asked, astonishingly. So she hadn’t revived from the curse after all. She feared that the revival process had left her brain dead, leading her to wander back to her room like a mindless zombie. Cixi had pondered this and was struggling to make sense of why she had awakened in her bed rather than in a sterile science lab. "Who brought me here?"

Olga took an unhurried sip of her coffee before setting the cup back onto the saucer. "Cassian." She answered it so casually that it took several seconds for the meaning to fully settle inside Cixi’s head.

Meanwhile, Olga reached for the serving tray and placed a plate in front of her. Crispy bacon rested beside a sunny-side-up egg while several slices of toasted bread sat neatly on the side.

Cixi barely looked at the food. "W-what do you mean, Cassian?"

Her confusion was genuine.

No. It was beyond confusion. Because she had spoken to Cassian only a short while ago. He had been in his apartment. Or at least she thought he had been. So how could he possibly have been here?

How could he have caught her?

Did he know she was about to fall from the terrace?

Had he been watching her?

The questions immediately began multiplying inside her head.

Olga watched the bewilderment spread across Cixi’s face and smiled faintly. "Why are you so shocked? I thought you knew he was alive..."

Of course, she knew he was alive... But.... What was happening right now? What was she supposed to say to the woman sitting right infront of Cixi? "I don’t know what to say." Cixi replied, unsure if she were suppose to talk about Cassian.

Absentmindedly, Cixi picked up a piece of toast, though she barely noticed the food. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Something about the Cassian of this suddenly felt odd.

Very odd.

And how the mirror only showed Cassian and not anyone else.

Her grip tightened around the toast. She could see Cassian in the mirror. And do not imagine him.

She remembered staring at the reflection, only to be replaced by him.

The night he got stabbed. He should have died. Even an accident on the bridge. The water flow was strong, and no one could survive it. But he survived.

Cassian should have died. She knew that. She had seen him take his last breath. And Cassian had looked dead.

Yet he wasn’t.

Not only was he alive, but he also seemed capable of appearing wherever he pleased and knowing things he should not know.

Her appetite disappeared completely.

Slowly, she lowered the toast.

A strange unease settled inside her chest.

Was Cassian abnormal... like her?